


Set Fire to the Rain

by purplehairedwonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehairedwonder/pseuds/purplehairedwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[6.20 coda] Dean and Castiel's conversation was a lot like the night Sam  broke Dean's trust in that honeymoon suite. The only thing missing from the scene was for Cas to take a swing at Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Fire to the Rain

_But there's a side to you  
That I never knew, never knew.  
All the things you'd say  
They were never true, never true,  
And the games you play  
You would always win, always win.  
  
But I set fire to the rain,_ _  
Watched it pour as I touched your face,  
Well, it burned while I cried  
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!_

_**\--“Set Fire to the Rain,” Adele** _

  
  
Sam tossed and turned in his bed, the much-too-short bed furthest from the door that hadn’t been the right size for him since his early teens, his mind spinning over Cas’ words.

_“Sam, I was the one who raised you from Perdition.”_

His insides still clenched at the memory of the words, which had felt like a sucker punch; for all Sam’s suspicions and worries about what Cas had been hiding, the thought had never crossed his mind that Cas might be keeping something like that from him—from him _and_ Dean.

Dean had sworn that they’d asked Cas the first chance they got after reuniting about who brought him back and the angel had been adamant in his ignorance. And what reason did they have to think he might lie to them about it?

Unless he’d known something was wrong and didn’t want to face up to it. That was another reaction Sam was uncomfortably familiar with.

And that was why he couldn’t shake his suspicion about the circumstances of his resurrection.

 _“Wait, did you bring me back soulless on_ purpose _?”_

_“How could you think that?”_

Sam, ever the master of avoiding answering a question he didn’t want to touch, knew evasion when he saw it. The angel hadn’t denied it. His expression had been aghast, but the words hadn’t answered the question. Cas had seemed genuinely pleased to see him right after he’d gotten his soul back, but he’d also been against getting his soul back in the first place.

Sam rubbed blearily at his eyes and rolled onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, eyeing the familiar water stain above the bed that an eight year old Dean had declared was shaped like a storm cloud and had teased Sam about being rained on whenever he’d been in sullen mood.

Cas had been so adamant that he was doing what he had to, that he was working for the bigger picture, that he was trying to protect them and Bobby. The words were familiar; Sam knew how it felt to think everything rested on his shoulders and that making bad decisions for the right reasons would be worth it in the end.

He also knew the bitter taste of his pride being shoved back down his throat when all hell broke loose because of his bad decisions.

It had a sulfuric aftertaste.

And Sam knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Dean’s heartbroken, betrayed gaze. He knew how it felt to consider all his bridges burned with no going back.

_“Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means—It means you’re a monster.”_

_“No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one… Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong?”_

With a weary sigh, Sam rolled over to face the empty bed and bit his lip. As hurt as he was by Cas’ betrayal, he knew Dean was far worse off. He hadn’t even made it up the stairs to their bedroom after reaching Bobby’s house.Dean needed space to think—and that was never a good sign. For all the crap Dean gave him about being an emo brooding girl, when it came down to it, Dean could easily out-brood him.

Sam had let him be when they’d gotten back, but the longer he stared at that empty bed, the more he worried. No, the last thing Dean needed right now was to brood on the second person he trusted implicitly working with a demon behind his back. Sam swallowed and rolled out of bed.

He padded down the hall, his socks muffling the sound of his footsteps as he approached the stairs. But he paused when he heard voices. He couldn’t see into the living room, but he knew that’s where the voices were coming from.

"Why are you here?"Dean demanded angrily.

"I want you to understand,"Cas replied.

Sam nearly bolted down the steps at the angel’s voice; how had he gotten into the house when they’d angel-proofed it? Had they screwed something up? Either way, Dean was alone with the last person he wanted to deal with at the moment. Dean was a wreck after the house and this was the last thing he needed to face on his own. But Dean’s reply kept him in place.

"Believe me, I get it."Dean retorted."Blah blah Raphael."

And, Sam realized with a bolt of painful clarity, that’s how it had been with him, hadn’t it? “Blah blah Lilith,” as it were.

"I'm doing this for you, Dean. I'm doing this because of you,” Cas said, sounding desperate.

Sam had been so sure his intentions had been good. He’d been lost in grief and Ruby had found an outlet for him. She’d manipulated him into thinking he needed revenge for Dean’s death to the point he’d remained obsessed with it even after Dean returned from Hell. God, he thought he’d been protecting Dean from having to face Lilith like the angels had seemed to want him to when he was broken after what he’d been through in Hell.

Like Cas, Sam had been blinded by his pride into thinking Dean couldn’t help, so damn certain Dean wouldn’t understand what he was doing, that he kept it from him for as long as he could. Sam had snuck out behind his back when Dean needed him the most. And Cas had stayed in Heaven—and, apparently, with some time in Hell as well—with his secrets when Dean needed _him_ the most.

"Because of me, yeah," Dean replied with a mirthless laugh that sent a shiver down Sam’s spine, "you've got to be kidding me."

The excuse had been bullshit when Sam had tried it and that hadn’t changed with Cas.

"You're the one who taught me that freedom and free will—" Cas began.

Sam was shaking his head even as Dean interrupted the angel.

"You're a friggin' child, you know that?" Dean growled. "Just because you can do what you want, doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want!"

It had taken releasing Lucifer on Earth for Sam to learn that lesson, to see the slippery slope of his demonically-gifted powers despite—or perhaps because of—the surge of intoxicating power that ran through him when he used them. The stain of addiction that remained on his soul to this day was more than enough of a lesson for Sam.

Cas, according to Dean, had come back after Lucifer had killed him new and improved. It seemed Cas’ new and improved angelic grace and the knowledge of free will were _his_ slippery slope.

"I know what I'm doing," Cas insisted.

Sam swallowed against the lump forming in his throat as memories of that honeymoon suite played in his mind’s eye. He’d been so far gone in his pride and addiction at that point, even Dean hadn’t been able to pull him out of it.

_“No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.  
  
“Yes, I do.”  
  
“Then that's worse.”_

Big brother knows best. Dean had been saying it for years—usually to get a rise out of Sam, who was more than willing to oblige on most occasions—but it turned out he was right. Sam wanted to run down the stairs and shake Cas’ shoulders, yell in his face, “Look at me! Look how badly I screwed up because I thought I knew what I was doing! I started the apocalypse because I was too damn proud to listen to Dean! Don’t make my same mistakes all over again.” But he was glued to his spot at the top of the steps. 

"I'm not gonna logic you, OK?" Dean replied wearily. "I'm saying don’t just 'cause. I’m asking you not to. That's it!" 

Sam felt his heart thumping in his throat and had a hard time believing the two figures in the living room couldn’t hear the pounding as it echoed loudly through his ears. He knew what Dean was doing; trust was everything to a Winchester—when Dean had told Sam he hadn’t known if he could forgive him, Sam had accepted that. He deserved it. But Dean saying he didn’t think he could _trust_ Sam anymore, that had been the heartbreaker in that hospital parking lot. They’d eventually gotten it back, but it had been a long road, literally to Hell and back. It was a process that had broken both of them in ways that they were still putting back together.

But it had been necessary; it had been worth it because trust was the one thing a Winchester had of himself to give. Dean was slow to give that trust, but he gave it whole-heartedly when he did. Cas was one of the lucky few to earn Dean’s. And now Dean was cashing in on it.

"I don't understand," Cas said.

Dean took a breath."Next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family; that you are like a brother to me. So if I am asking you not to do something, you gotta trust me, man."

Sam held his breath. Their extended family was tiny—and constantly shrinking—and Cas was one of the few people who’d earned both his and Dean’s trust to the point of entering into their fold. John Winchester had instilled in them the importance of family from childhood and it was a lesson instilled deeply in them both, though it took Sam a bit longer to get the message. Now though, years later, they were on the same page about it.

Cas had proven his loyalty, his bravery, his trustworthiness on countless occasions. Sam knew he’d die for the angel in an instant, as he would for Dean or Bobby.

But Cas and Dean? They had a “more profound bond,” he supposed, though wasn’t sure where that phrase had come from. Dean had placed the trust of a brother on Cas—much like the trust he placed on Sam himself—and wanted, no _needed_ , Cas to come through and prove he deserved it despite everything.

"Or what?"

Sam felt his stomach drop. He could just about picture the betrayed expression on Dean’s face. All that was missing was for Cas to take a swing at Dean for the scene to replay itself out fully.

_“You don't know me. You never did. And you never will.”_

Sam had rejected Dean’s attempts to help, to steer him off the tracks of manipulation Ruby had been laying since they’d first met when she was blonde. Sam knew full well just how much he’d let Dean down that day, how he’d broken the trust Dean had instilled in him. He’d gone to Hell to atone for it.

And Cas had just done the same thing to Dean that Sam had nearly three years prior. Dean had that trust, the thing Winchesters prized above all else and gave out so sparingly, thrown back in his face. Again.

"Well," Dean said, clearly having had to collect himself, "I'll do what I have to do to stop you."

Dean had been at the convent that night to stop him and Sam had no doubt he’d make good on his promise to stop Cas—especially with Sam there to back him up this time. Sam didn’t want Cas to fall as far as he had for making the same mistakes. He only hoped Cas would listen to reason more easily than Sam had. If one human could set Satan free through arrogant pride, who knew what an angel suffering the same sin could do.

"You can't, Dean. You're just a man. I'm an angel."

Sam bit his lip as the familiar spiral continued in the room just down the stairs. Yet Sam remained rooted to his spot, unable to break free.

_“You don't think I can?"  
  
“No. You can't. You're not strong enough.”_

Sam remembered that feeling of superiority that came from the high of demon blood. He remembered feeling so much stronger, better than Dean. He was smarter, stronger, faster; he was a better hunter than his brother, he’d told himself. Dean was worn down, broken, and dulled by alcoholism; he couldn’t handle the responsibility of stopping the apocalypse.

The sulfuric aftertaste of his pride being shoved back down his throat burned simply at the memory.

Cas was making the same mistake Sam had in underestimating Dean.

"I dunno," Dean replied quickly enough, "I’ve taken some pretty big fish."

Dean, Sam knew, wasn’t going to let that lie.

_“You walk out that door, don't you ever come back.”_

Sam had gotten a warning in their father’s voice in that honeymoon suite. Cas was getting one in Dean’s own in Bobby’s living room. The angel should have known better, but pride and self-righteousness served as effective blinders to reason.

"Sorry, Dean," Cas said.

Sam held his breath. Cas had made his choice.

Bile was bitter on Sam’s tongue as the slamming sound of the hotel room door rang through his ears.

"I'm sorry, too, then," Dean replied.

Sam could hear the cracking in Dean’s composure with those words. He could practically hear his brother falling apart as the fluttering of wings signaled Cas’ exit.

Sam hesitated only a moment before coming down the stairs. Dean was standing in the middle of the living room, looking out the window with the ineffective angel-proof sigils.

“Dean.”

His brother didn’t turn around, though he didn’t sound surprised that Sam was there. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough,” Sam replied, stepping into the living room.

Dean nodded. “So you know what we have to do.”

“We have to stop him before he does something stupid.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, before he gets himself tangled up with a demon. Oh wait…”

“Dean.”

There must have been something in Sam’s voice because Dean turned around. His eyes were bright; he probably didn’t want to let the tears that were forming fall. It would be proof that Cas had thrown the trust and friendship so carefully bestowed on him back in Dean’s face. It would make it all real.

“Sammy, I—” He trailed off and dropped onto the sofa. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sam sat down next to Dean, not quite touching but close enough to give support. He carefully watched the wallpaper across the room to give his brother some space. “Look, I know what he’s doing seems crazy.” Dean snorted at that but Sam kept talking. “But I also know what it feels like to think everything is on you.”

“Sam.”

“No, Dean, let me finish.” Dean fell silent. “He probably feels like he’s the only one who can fight this fight and the only way to win is through underhanded means.”

“He shouldn’t.”

“I know.” If Sam had learned anything, it was that it was not the mistakes so much that hurt, but rather the refusal to ask for help—which showed a lack of that essential trust. “But I know how isolating that pressure can be. It’s arrogant and it’s off-base,” he said at Dean’s grimace, “but it’s also scary as hell. I think,” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “I think he’s just as lost as we are.”

Dean sighed. “What are you saying, Sam?”

Sam turned to look at his brother, whose head was still in his hands. Bobby’s carpet was holding his interest pretty well in the dark. “I hit rock bottom and you brought me back, Dean. _You_ did. Even after all the shit I pulled. I didn’t think I was coming back but you did it anyway.”

“You’re my brother,” Dean said by way of explanation.

“And what’s Cas?” Sam prodded.

Dean looked up at that, frowning. “Sam…”

Sam shook his head. “Cas is on a dangerous path, Dean. He needs his family to pull him off before he does something really stupid.” Sam smiled wryly. “And I’d rather keep the crown for stupid accomplishments at this point.”

“Always so competitive, Sammy,” Dean said, but there was a hint of a smile on his tired face.

Sam nodded. “Besides, it took one of you to bring me back. Just think what two of us can do.”

Dean shook his head and bumped Sam’s shoulder. “You are such an emo geek.”

Sam bumped Dean’s shoulder back.“We’ll drag him back kicking and screaming if we have to. But we’ll do it. Together.”

Finally, Dean nodded. “Yeah, alright. Together and all that cheesy after school special shit.”


End file.
